Apparently does not include riding a motorcycle. Bummer.
So, months ago I decided that since I can no longer pay for a trip on a motorcycle, as in the Third World, I needed to learn how to ride myself, and I had signed up for a motorcycle riding course taught at Northern Virginia Community College. The course is taught in a weekend, and they're pretty emphatic that you have to be on time in order to pass the class.
My class began yesterday at 6:00 PM. I left work at 4:15 to get there on time, but unfortunately, between traffic and the lack of signage that is Northern Virginia, I spent twenty minutes looking for the entrance onto campus and for the building in which the class was held. I was 15 minutes late, right in time for one of the teachers, who had the very sore look of a stick up his a**, to tell me that I couldn't join the class because it started fifteen minutes ago. Which is so ridiculous because dammit, I'm a smart girl and could have figured it out.
Whatever.
So, after bursting hysterically into tears (unfortunately, not in front of the mean teacher, who might have let me into the class because men can't handle tears), I jumped in Greta and Michael's car that they had loaned me (sorry, Greta and Michael--perhaps not the wisest thing for me to do in terms of driver safety!) and drove their car back to their house.
Their house is in Alexandria, right by the Braddock Road metro, which is coincidentally, very close to where Superman lives. Superman had invited me out on a date for Friday, which I had had to push back because of my motorcycle class, so after cleaning myself up a bit, I call him and ask if he's made alternative plans.
He had none that involved other people, so instead of heading off to Bed Bath and Beyond to improve his apartment, he drove the metro, picked me up, and we went out to dinner at Five Guys (burger and fries). True to form, we closed down the restaurant and contemplated what to do next. It was really cold, so walking around Old Town was out, but we both knew we wanted to continue the date. So, we opted to go back to his house to watch a movie (which I had really sworn to myself that I wouldn't do until date #4, but when have I ever exercised self-restraint?).
I'm proud to say that we actually watched the movie before we started our marathon makeout session (another thing I had promised myself wouldn't happen until date #4--I suck at this game!). When he finally took me home around 4 AM, we had covered, once again, all possible avenues of conversation--religion again, morbid art, sexual and marital histories (really, kids, this is only date #2!), vomiting, wow.
It's like we're on a train, and I'm not sure where we're going, but we're definitely traveling at a high rate of speed. And probably not on a motorcycle.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Pick up a Penguin
Really, every girl should pick herself up a penguin.
My penguin comes, of course, from my speed dating experience a couple weeks ago. The penguin was my first post-speed-dating date (about 20 minutes after speed dating finished, actually), and while I can't say he has the sheer effect on me that Superman has (and just ask Danny DeVito how fair that is), I can say that we always have a good time. He is the party.
A well-planned date it was, too. We started at Ching Ching Cha in Georgetown, a lovely little tea house. After snacking on chicken dumplings and tea, we made our way to DC Improv, an activity I have literally wanted to do since I moved to DC in 2000.
It was definitely worth the wait. The comic tonight was a hypnotist, and after making several lazy sperm jokes (apparently, conception was a problem for his family), he moved on to the main event, hypnotizing about ten people on the stage. It was hysterical! He gave one poor woman MPD, where she had two hands that disagreed with each other and each had their own opinions about what he was saying. One woman looked truly pained as she discussed the aliens that came and destroyed her trailer park and made her pregnant, while the man in front of her jumped onto his chair and formed letters with his body. The highlight of the evening came when one woman was compelled to tell a joke and demanded that the comic snap in her ear so that she could tell the proper punchline (the first compulsion was to forget the punchline).
It was a great time--the penguin and I get along well and have a fair amount in common (I still think he lives with his parents). Our date was a respectable four hours long, and while I can't say I floated home, I still had an excellent time.
My penguin comes, of course, from my speed dating experience a couple weeks ago. The penguin was my first post-speed-dating date (about 20 minutes after speed dating finished, actually), and while I can't say he has the sheer effect on me that Superman has (and just ask Danny DeVito how fair that is), I can say that we always have a good time. He is the party.
A well-planned date it was, too. We started at Ching Ching Cha in Georgetown, a lovely little tea house. After snacking on chicken dumplings and tea, we made our way to DC Improv, an activity I have literally wanted to do since I moved to DC in 2000.
It was definitely worth the wait. The comic tonight was a hypnotist, and after making several lazy sperm jokes (apparently, conception was a problem for his family), he moved on to the main event, hypnotizing about ten people on the stage. It was hysterical! He gave one poor woman MPD, where she had two hands that disagreed with each other and each had their own opinions about what he was saying. One woman looked truly pained as she discussed the aliens that came and destroyed her trailer park and made her pregnant, while the man in front of her jumped onto his chair and formed letters with his body. The highlight of the evening came when one woman was compelled to tell a joke and demanded that the comic snap in her ear so that she could tell the proper punchline (the first compulsion was to forget the punchline).
It was a great time--the penguin and I get along well and have a fair amount in common (I still think he lives with his parents). Our date was a respectable four hours long, and while I can't say I floated home, I still had an excellent time.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Dating Dream
Okay, I may have just been on the best first date EVER. Yes, it stems from my mini-speed dating experience, but WHATEVER.
So, Superman and I completely hit it off at the speed dating, and rather than waiting for Professionals in the City to weigh in on whether we were a match, we just exchanged emails. After a couple of emails, he makes the comment that it feels like we're passing notes in class. My response: "When I passed notes in class, I folded them into little t-shirts." The next day, I get an invitation titled "psst--pass this to Julie." He had created a picture (Superman is a graphic designer) of a notebook paper t-shirt that said "I think you're cute. Do you wanna go to dinner with me?" with a checkbox indicating yes or no. WHO could resist such an invitation? Obviously, I said yes.
Thursday was the big night, with a dinner at Mei Wah planned (after telling me he was gastronomically adventurous, he suggested Chinese). We met at 7:00. At around 10:00, after enduring literally hours of waiter glares, we decided that perhaps we should move to greener pastures--Kramerbooks for dessert. Again, chatted for hours. About everything. Corn flavored condoms (a given with me), thinking in colors, living in the city vs living in the suburbs, birds chirping in the morning, pulling all nighters in college, Pixar movies, you name it.
Finally, at 1:00 AM, we could no longer ignore the people sweeping the floors, balancing the tills, turning off all the lights in the store. Or our ever-increasing need to sleep. So, we finally left for the metro, which was--HAHA--closed. This poor boy had to charter a taxi to Alexandria--no fun task. We flag down a taxi, and he asks for a good night kiss. Given that I just spent the last several hours actively restraining myself from grabbing his face over the dessert table and planting a big, wet one on him, I was only too happy to oblige.
And there went the taxi.
But, it's Dupont, so we were able to find another without too much fuss (although obviously with some more kissing in between), and I made my way home. I could have floated, but given the hour and the temperature, I opted for the taxi, instead.
There was no point. I don't think I got to sleep that night until 3:00, anyway.
So, Superman and I completely hit it off at the speed dating, and rather than waiting for Professionals in the City to weigh in on whether we were a match, we just exchanged emails. After a couple of emails, he makes the comment that it feels like we're passing notes in class. My response: "When I passed notes in class, I folded them into little t-shirts." The next day, I get an invitation titled "psst--pass this to Julie." He had created a picture (Superman is a graphic designer) of a notebook paper t-shirt that said "I think you're cute. Do you wanna go to dinner with me?" with a checkbox indicating yes or no. WHO could resist such an invitation? Obviously, I said yes.
Thursday was the big night, with a dinner at Mei Wah planned (after telling me he was gastronomically adventurous, he suggested Chinese). We met at 7:00. At around 10:00, after enduring literally hours of waiter glares, we decided that perhaps we should move to greener pastures--Kramerbooks for dessert. Again, chatted for hours. About everything. Corn flavored condoms (a given with me), thinking in colors, living in the city vs living in the suburbs, birds chirping in the morning, pulling all nighters in college, Pixar movies, you name it.
Finally, at 1:00 AM, we could no longer ignore the people sweeping the floors, balancing the tills, turning off all the lights in the store. Or our ever-increasing need to sleep. So, we finally left for the metro, which was--HAHA--closed. This poor boy had to charter a taxi to Alexandria--no fun task. We flag down a taxi, and he asks for a good night kiss. Given that I just spent the last several hours actively restraining myself from grabbing his face over the dessert table and planting a big, wet one on him, I was only too happy to oblige.
And there went the taxi.
But, it's Dupont, so we were able to find another without too much fuss (although obviously with some more kissing in between), and I made my way home. I could have floated, but given the hour and the temperature, I opted for the taxi, instead.
There was no point. I don't think I got to sleep that night until 3:00, anyway.
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